Chapter 34 Slut!
Slut!
Ali
Ali’s legs were trembling.
She couldn’t remember how to breathe— couldn’t remember anything, really, except the wet heat of Dylan’s mouth between her thighs and the way her name sounded when he moaned it against her skin.
Good. Lord.
Her fingers were tangled in his hair, not tugging, just holding on. Anchoring herself to the only solid thing in the room: him.
He licked her again, slow and filthy, and she gasped.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, voice deep and dark and unsteady. “You taste so sweet. Like heaven. Like you were made for this.”
The words hit her like lightning.
Her body arched without permission, a sharp cry slipping from her lips.
Nobody had ever talked to her like that. Not without making her feel like a punchline afterward. But Dylan… he sounded like he meant every filthy word. Like her body was something sacred. Something his.
“I could eat this pussy all night,” he murmured, licking her again, slower this time. “So wet for me. You feel that?”
Ali’s breath hitched, her hips stuttering against his face.
“Yes,” she whispered, cheeks burning. “Oh my gawd yes.”
He groaned, and she felt it— felt it— all the way through her.
“This pussy’s perfect,” he growled, fingers stroking deep inside her now. “Tight, warm… fuck, I missed this. Missed you.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, everything too much. Too good. The heat. His mouth. The way his voice made her ache.
She didn’t know whether to cry or come.
Maybe both.
“Don’t hold back, Ali,” he whispered between licks. “Wanna hear you. Wanna taste you when you fall apart on my tongue.”
Gawd.
She couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from her throat, couldn’t stop her thighs from shaking as he sucked her clit into his mouth like he meant it.
She wasn’t thinking anymore. Just feeling.
“Dyl—” she gasped. “Oh gawd, I—”
“Come for me,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Let me feel it.”
And she did.
She shattered— head thrown back, body arching, every inch of her unraveling under his mouth, his hands, his words. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, just held her right there while wave after wave rolled through her.
Ali didn’t feel shy. Or hidden. Or afraid of her body. She never felt that way with Dylan.
She felt wanted.
She felt worshipped
Then Dylan’s arms were around her— solid, sure, there. Lifting her off the bed.
“I got you,” he murmured, voice thick, one hand cradling her hip, the other sliding up her spine.
She leaned into him, still trembling, her breath catching against the crook of his neck. Her thighs were slick, her skin on fire, and her brain wasn’t entirely convinced that orgasm hadn’t split her into pieces.
“You good?” he asked, lips brushing her temple.
Ali nodded, too breathless to speak.
He turned her gently, guiding her to face the bed.
She went with him, pliant, dazed. His hand stayed firm on the small of her back as he leaned her forward, until her hands met the edge of the mattress, and she folded over it— knees locked, back arched.
He lifted each leg placing her knees on the bed.
Had her kneeling on it, leaning in her forearms. Open and exposed for him.
The position should’ve made her self-conscious, but it didn’t.
Not with him behind her. Not with his body heat wrapped around her like armor. Not with the way he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, soft and reverent.
“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” he breathed against her skin, kissing lower, toward the curve of her spine. “Still shaking.”
She felt him step back just enough to push his shorts down, the sound of fabric hitting the floor making her toes curl. Then his boxer briefs. She didn’t need to look— she felt him. The heat of him. The sheer want radiating off his skin.
And when he stepped forward again, bare now, hard as stone and throbbing behind her, she gasped.
“Feel that?” he asked, voice rough, his palm smoothing down her back. “That’s what you do to me, Ali.”
Her whole body ached for him— open, throbbing, ready.
He kissed her again, right between her shoulder blades, and then rested his hands on her hips.
“I’m not gonna rush this,” he said, voice shaking now too. “But I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.”
Ali nodded, moaning low. “Please.”
Ali braced herself against the bed, her breath coming in shallow waves. Dylan’s hands flexed at her hips, thumbs dragging slow, grounding circles into her skin like he could soothe her and stake his claim all at once.
Then he shifted closer.
She felt the thick press of him at her entrance— hot, hard, already pulsing with restraint.
He slid in with one deep, slow thrust, filling her so completely it punched the air from her lungs. Her fingers fisted the comforter. She swore the earth tilted.
“Fuck,” Dylan groaned, head dropping to her shoulder. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight.”
He gave her a second to adjust— hips rocking in shallow rolls, one hand sliding up her back to her shoulder, the other pressing into the curve of her waist. Holding her there. Keeping her.
And then he started to move.
Long, deep strokes. Deliberate. Possessive. Like he was carving his name into her body from the inside out.
Ali moaned, the sound broken and desperate.
“Been dreaming of this pussy for ten fucking years,” he rasped, picking up pace. “And it’s still mine.”
She cried out, body jolting with every thrust, every word.
“You hear me, Ali?” he growled, thrusting deeper. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Gawd—Dyl—”
He reached down and wrapped his hand gently around her throat— not squeezing, just holding. Anchoring her.
“Say it,” he demanded, breath hot at her ear. “Say you’re mine.”
Her head dropped, body clenching around him. She was so close again, the pressure building fast.
“I’m yours,” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.
Dylan snarled—snarled— and drove into her harder, deeper, making her legs shake.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours!” she cried out, voice breaking, throat raw. “I’m— oh my gawd— I’m yours, Dylan!”
“That’s right,” he groaned, fucking her harder now, like he was chasing the words down into her soul. “Mine. Always fucking mine.”
Her climax slammed into her like a wave, ripping through her body in hot, shattering pulses. She screamed his name, her entire world narrowing to the feel of him inside her, around her, claiming her.
And then he followed.
With a guttural curse and her name on his lips, Dylan thrust deep one last time, his whole body shaking as he emptied into her, hips grinding, breath wrecked.
Still holding her like something precious.
Like something his.
Dylan didn’t let her go. Not even for a second.